Airy Lullaby
by DoctorAuthor
Summary: Breathing is boring, but not when John is the one doing it. So Sherlock listens and loves this man. Pure fluff. Will only ever be one chapter.


**A/N: I officially hate myself. Here I have you people waiting months for me to upload new chapters of And There He Sits Forever, thinking that I'm putting in hard work to it. It now comes to light that I am actually writing unpopular fanfictions that everyone hates and no one reviews in those periods of time.**

**Please don't hate me, and please REVIEW. I apologize, and on with the one-chapter pure fluff fic. **

**I Will Let You Sleep**

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Sherlock wasn't sure how it had happened, really.

The relationship thing. It had gone from Sherlock being married to his work and he and John simply being friends, to them sleeping in the same bed and Sherlock feeling things he had never felt before.

It was strange. In a nice way, though.

Sherlock had been sure he had eliminated all of Mycroft's bloody secret cameras inside of their flat and room (it was _their_ room, now), but, apparently, he had been mistaken.

It's funny how positions change on the couch. It happens gradually, or very quickly. Either way, you never notice until suddenly Sherlock was watching an American sitcom on a channel that he didn't even know they could get, and John's head was lying in his lap, more asleep than awake, with his eyes closed and the detective's fingers running through his lover's sandy hair.

Sherlock didn't want to disturb John by getting up; the doctor looked more peaceful than he had ever seen him since they met. It made him look ten years younger- no stressed lines creasing his forehead or pain in his eyes when he woke up from a silent nightmare.

Sherlock's phone buzzed from the table next to the couch. He quickly picked it up with his left hand that was free, glad that John didn't stir. It was a text.

From Mycroft.

Ugh. Didn't the prick have anything better to do? Sherlock read it anyway, though, because he felt so relaxed, and maybe just a little bit pleasant towards his older brother. Not for long, though.

_You two are quite adorable - M_

Sherlock's cheeks turned pink as embarrassment flared up inside of him. God, Mycroft was such a pervert. He texted back:

_And so are you when you bake in mother's pink apron. I have pictures of that, you know - S_

The reply was simple.

_Don't wake John, he deserves some sleep, especially with you as a boyfriend - M_

Sherlock knew that his brother was embarrassed now, even over texts. He chose not to reply; he was in too good a mood. He shifted in his seat slightly. John stirred at last.

"Sh'rlock?" John grumbled. He realized their position and sat up, his hair sticking out at odd angles. "Surry, I didn't mean to fall asleep. You can get up," he stopped to stifle a yawn,"if you want."

Sherlock smiled at his lover. "No, lie back down, I'd rather not move. Besides, you need some sleep."

"I can get sleep later," John insisted, still groggy. "I can make you some tea, I'm," he attempted to shut out another yawn,"I'm alright."

Sherlock spotted dark circles under his boyfriend's eyes and felt a bit guilty. Their last case had had the two of them up all day and night for 92 hours or so. A small feat for Sherlock, but John had nearly collapsed at the end from Sherlock's pushing, falling into unconsciousness the moment his head touched the pillow, fully clothed, shoes on and laced and everything. Now he was still tired and Sherlock didn't want to keep him from what he needed.

"No," the detective said,"you deserve some sleep." He gently but firmly pulled his lover back down so his head was resting in Sherlock's lap again, and ran his long fingers through his hair like last time. John seemed to enjoy this, because he relaxed and didn't put up a fight. Sherlock placed this in his memory data, in a special part of his Mind Palace named John. The doctor let out a content sigh, then murmured something that the detective couldn't make out.

"What was that?"

John was struggling to stay awake with the soothing feeling of fingers stroking his head. "I could...make you tea, y'know..."

"I don't want any tea, John, that's alright."

"What's wrong with my tea?" came the sleepy mumble. Sherlock smiled and actually laughed at this. "Nothing, John, nothing."

A soft snore came from the doctor in response.

Sherlock watched John sleep. He looked more at peace now than he had ever seemed to be before. He was beautiful, really. Every part of him. His dirty blond hair, his dark, warm eyes, the way he smiled, the way he moved, the way he breathed.

Breathing was boring. It was true, for Sherlock. But when the detective got to listen to his lover's calm, even breath, it took his away. It soothed Sherlock; a airy lullaby. He smiled down at John, his eyes sparkling. He listened.

John was just so perfect. Sherlock knew this and let him sleep.

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**A/N: So** **that's it. No more chapters. Hope you like, and please review!**


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